


Space Dust

by Sukuangtou



Category: Guardians of the Galaxy (Movies)
Genre: Angst, Blood, Drama, Family, Felt the need to tag that, Hurt/Comfort, Kid Fic, Kid Peter Quill, Talk of dying alone, Talk of elderly people dying alone
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-06
Updated: 2017-07-07
Packaged: 2018-11-28 16:12:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,047
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11421531
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sukuangtou/pseuds/Sukuangtou
Summary: On their way back from visiting a planet, Peter and Kraglin’s ship runs out of power. Now they are stuck, floating aimlessly in space. The perfect time to sing at the top of your lungs, right? Poor Kraglin.





	1. Chapter 1

Even in a confined space, Peter found room to dance. Sure, he had banged into a few walls at first, maybe he had kicked Kraglin in the shin earlier, but for the most part he had it down to an art. It was about finding the spot where you could shake your hips about without hitting anything, and moving your arms in a way that suited the situation. 

Kraglin received a hand to the back of the head.

“Pete, I swear, if you do that-”

“Come and get your love!” Peter drowned out the noise, shaking his head wildly and punching the air. Kraglin was sat in the pilot seat of the small, pod-like ship, pressing buttons in an attempt to get the vehicle going again. He groaned.

“I will give you one last chance to shut the hell-”

“Come and get your looooove!”

“Right.” The headphones were suddenly yanked off his head, cutting off the music so suddenly that Peter jumped. Kraglin used his distraction to also swipe up the Walkman from his belt with practiced ease, holding both above his head and out of Peter’s reach.

“Hey!”

“You’re not getting these back for an hour.” Kraglin said in his ‘I’m-trying-to-be-stern-but-actually-I’m-really-tired’ voice. He was good at those; he had a lot of practice recently. 

“That’s not fair!” If it was not for the fact that he was nearing eleven, Peter would have stamped his foot.

“I don’t care,” Kraglin placed his music into an overhead compartment where Peter couldn’t reach, shutting it firmly. “I need to concentrate, and I can’t do that with you singin’ your head off.”

“Bully.”

“Brat.”

Peter stuck his tongue out, sitting down into his seat and kicking his legs. He stared out into open space. There were some pretty colours out there, deep blues and oranges and silvers. Distant space dust looked like cotton candy from where they were, fluffy and light and swirling around.

“I spy-”

“No.”

“Ugh but I’m bored! There’s nothing to do on these ships anyway, let alone when they’re broken.” He lent against the control panel, pressing buttons lazily as Kraglin began digging out the wiring underneath it. “Does Yondu even know where we are?”

“I’m hoping to get the comms working again. But if not…He’ll…Be able to guess…”

“That’s not a yes.”

Kraglin sighed, now deep into the inside of the panel. Peter stopped pushing buttons to be safe.

“It’s a ‘we may be waiting a while’, that’s all I can offer.” He began moving some of the wires around. If Kraglin could transfer the energy fuelling the lighting system to the comms, they might be enough to get through to the Elector. There was enough light in this area of space that they could get by without it. “Pass me those cutters, will you Pete?  
“Do you think they’ll be able to guess right?” Feeling the tool placed into his hand, which was stuck out the panel Kraglin was now shoulder deep in, he began to strip away the plastic around the wire.

“They knew where we were going, and the route we were taking there and back, so in theory they should know where we are.”

“In theory?”

“Well, we _are_ floating in space; there are currents, gravity forces and stuff. It may be that we’re being pulled off course a bit.”

“Oh.” Peter stared out the window again. This time open space, with no planets or nearby asteroids, seemed barren and ominous.

“How far off course?”

“Hard to tell- Yeow!” The lights suddenly flickered and Kraglin came scrambling out of the panel like a cat that had its tail stepped on. There was a clicking noise, and then the lights died all together with a final pitiful whirr.

“Oops.” Peter offered.

“Damn it!” Kraglin spat, running a hand over his face. He let out a long breath. “Well, that’s that. Looking like it’s the waiting game.”

“So we’re completely stuck here?”

“Looks like it.”

“With no means of communicating the Elector?”

“Got it in one.”

“Yaaaay.”

For hours their ship floated silently. They may have been moving, they may not, it was hard to tell with not visible landmarks, or, well, spacemarks. Peter hoped they weren’t. He was hungry, but they had no food on them, so he was having to tough it out. Well, he did have some sweets in his backpack, but he wanted to save those, so they were out of the question. They had no water either, which was probably a good thing considering there was also no toilet.

Peter gazed out of the window, counting the distant stars twinkling dully. There were so many, thousands of faraway planets with thousands of people on them. He silently hoped one was Earth.

Imagine, he could be so close to his home planet and not even realise it. Maybe they were floating right on by. Maybe at this very moment his grandparents were out searching for him, for the lost boy who vanished the night his mother died. Maybe they had posters and images on milk bottles. Maybe he appeared on the news. 

Maybe his grandparents had died too, and Peter was sitting here oblivious. Maybe one grandparent passed away, and the other was left alone, after losing a daughter, grandson and their partner. Maybe they died alone, thinking they were the last of the family left. Maybe they were expecting to find Peter when they went to heaven. Peter hoped that they died surrounded by friends and what was left of their family. He really, really hoped.

Peter did not realise he was crying until he was pulled into Kraglin’s lap.

“They’ll find us,” Kraglin said gently, rubbing his back, “Don’t worry.” Peter buried his head into Kraglin’s shoulder.

“Do you think they died alone?”

“What?”

“My grandparents,” His voice was becoming shaky, “Do you think they died alone?”

“Why do you think they died?” Kraglin continued running his hand smoothly up and down Peter’s back.

“I dunno. I just have a feeling.” He hiccupped. “Mom died, and then I disappeared. If one of them went first, then the other would be alone.”

“Pete…” Kraglin hugged him, showing the side of himself that, if others were here, probably would not be surfacing. Peter never judged him for it. “I’m sure that _if_ they died, then they were surrounded by people they love.”

“How do you know?”

“That’s what families do; they look out for each other.” 

Peter was quiet for a long time. In fact, such a long time that when he spoke again Kraglin jumped, having thought he was asleep.

“Are we a family?” He asked softly.

“What’s that Pete?”

“Are we a family?”

Kraglin thought for a minute.

“I…Guess we are, in a weird, messed up way.” He let out a chuckle. “Better not be sayin’ that to Yondu, though, you know what he’s like.” Peter giggled, and settled into Kraglin’s chest, this time staying quiet until he dropped off to sleep.

…..

He was awoken by Kraglin hurriedly strapping him into his seat.

“Wha…?”

“Keep still, Pete. This belt’s being stubborn.” Kraglin struggled with the buckle. These were the type of seatbelt that came from each side of the seat, strapping together in the middle over the chest. Peter found them uncomfortable. Eventually Kraglin managed to click it together, and pulled the belt tight. As he moved away, Peter noticed the ship was shaking, as if being battered by a strong wind.

“Kraglin?” Dust and specks of space debris were flowing passed the window like they were underwater, swept up in an invisible current. They came from behind, going by the ship before drifting away. Peter watched it with growing concern.

“Space storm,” Kraglin explained, grabbing his seat and yanking the lever which kept it locked in that position. All the seats in the ship were designed to move along a track, meaning they could all be pushed to one side or the pilot could move around the control panel with ease. Kraglin moved his next to Peter’s and locked it down.

“Is it big?” Peter was almost too nervous to ask.

“It’s…” Kraglin opened the overhead compartment, and handed Peter his Walkman. “Big enough. Put it on loud, Pete, and close your eyes.” Kraglin strapped himself in.

It seemed that the moment the opening twangs of _Hooked on a Feeling_ began, the ship was battered by a strong gust of debris and dust and everything else a space storm collects on its rounds around the galaxy.

Peter shut his eyes, and kept his grip on the Walkman tight. He felt Kraglin’s arm come across his chest, helping him keep from bashing against the chair and the ship was suddenly swept up into the storm. 

If Peter had been on Earth, he would have thought he had been picked up in a tornado. That is what it felt like. The small pod shaped ship was like a ping pong ball, being tossed between players, twisting in the air, smacking one way and the other. Peter’s mother never let him on the rollercoasters at home, he was too short for most of them anyway, but this is what he imagined it was like. 

Peter had experienced a space storm once before, about five months ago on the Elector. It didn’t feel as bad on that ship, probably because the Elector was built for that kind of thing. They had also had time to prepare and hunker down. Kraglin had maybe a few minutes before the storm hit them.

Something heavy and large hit the ship in its side, sending them rolling and rolling and rolling. One second they were sat in their seats like normal, the next they were upside down, dangling as if they were fish on a line. Kraglin’s arm came away from his chest. Something else hit the back of the ship with a clang so loud he could hear it over his music, and Peter was flung forward against the seatbelt, the material digging in hard. It was a miracle by this point that his headphones were still on, and his Walkman was still in his grip.

The ship continued to spiral and spin through _Spirit in the Sky_ , and Peter could help but feel that maybe there was a spirit in the sky, and it was holding the ship and shaking it about as if it was a putting salt on a salad. 

Maybe Peter had hit his head.

Things began to slow by the time _I’m Not in Love_ started, leaving the ship battered and hanging in the air pathetically. Peter slowly opened his eyes one at a time, releasing his tight grip on the Walkman as he sat up. The ship was at an angle, tilted to one side. Out the window, which thankfully was not cracked, Peter could see the space storm drifting away to cause havoc elsewhere. 

“Let’s not do that again.” He said, his voice more wobbly than he would like, slipping off his headphones and stopping the tape. The seatbelt had become tight from him being thrown against it, and he struggled with the buckle to release himself. Eventually it clicked open.

Peter glanced to Kraglin, as the man had yet to speak.

Kraglin wasn’t there.

“Kraglin?” Peter’s eyes widened as he noticed the snapped material of the seatbelt. The straps that came around from the left side had snapped out of the chair, meaning that Kraglin was no longer tied down.

Peter remembered Kraglin’s arm disappearing, and then being thrusted forward. That was nearer the beginning of the storm. Kraglin would have been…

There was a smudge of blue down the control panel.

“Kraglin!”

Peter leapt to his feet, forgetting that the ship was at an angle and nearly falling head over heels. Clinging to the chair, he stared around the small ship, worried eyes finally falling onto the still figure spread across the floor like a dumped rag doll. 

“Kraglin!”

Peter stumbled his way over, holding onto whatever he could so he didn’t go tumbling forward and squish Kraglin.  
He dropped to his knees. Kraglin was on his stomach, head facing away from him. Blue was splattered all over his head, and the way his arm was bent was unnatural. 

“What…What do I do?” 

He wanted to turn Kraglin over and shake him, but when his friend had fallen out a tree back on Earth, they were told not to in case she had hurt her back. Kraglin had been chucked around; it was possible that he had hurt his back too. Peter tried to remember what he had been told when he had phoned for an ambulance.

“Breathing…”

He placed a hand on Kraglin’s back, and relief took over him when he felt it slowly rise and fall. That was one thing he could tick off the list.

“Is he bleeding anywhere?” 

He was, that much was obvious. Weren’t there usually medical kit in these ships? Peter glanced around, locating it strapped to the wall. He quickly went to retrieve it, having to climb up the ship to do so, and then having to go back down one handed. It was worth it though, as inside there were bandages, plasters and cloths. 

Peter did not know how to bandage someone, so instead he tried wiping away the blood. It was sticky and messy and Peter felt his stomach flip, but somehow he managed to clean most of it away and reveal the large gash going from just above Kraglin’s eyebrow and up to the top of his head. It looked like he had hit the corner of something, probably the control panel. 

Peter then found the biggest plaster he could and stuck it over the wound, having to then find another when the plaster only hid away half the injury. He hoped that it would stop the bleeding, but he was not sure. Peter wasn’t a doctor, after all. He was only ten, nearing eleven.

Having done the best he could, all Peter could do now was sit beside Kraglin and hope he would wake up and know what to do. Who knows how far they had travelled because of the storm, they could be miles from where they were meant to be. Yondu might be looking for them, but he would be searching the routes they were taking, not the area surrounding the routes.

Peter curled in on himself, alone in the darkness of the dead ship. 

He could not help but feel very, very small.


	2. Chapter 2

When the Elector came into view over an hour later, Peter could not decide if he felt elated or terrified. Elated because there was the Elector, in all her beautiful glory, terrified because it was far in the distance, heading towards the planet they had been visiting.

The ship was small; would they notice it, all the way out here? It wasn’t like Peter could shout out to them, or there was anything buttons he could press. There was nothing in his backpack of use, just some trinkets he had picked up, and the large pack of cola bottle sweets Kraglin had brought him (though he would probably deny that later). Peter was going to save those, and make them last as long as possible.

Peter should never have nagged Kraglin to take him to the planet; they could have avoided all of this. He had been so desperate to go there, to see all the shops and markets, to see the _Terran_ based shop. And he had fun while he was there. Sure, the items were all a bit out of date, but they had toys and action figures and for just a moment he could pretend to be home again, pretend that his mother was waiting outside the town shop, waiting for him to come out begging for the sweets that he had seen or the comic that he wanted. 

But he was not on Earth, he was in space. Deep space. Space hundreds of thousands of lightyears away from his home planet. 

He should never have nagged.

Beside him, Kraglin groaned.

“Kraglin?” Peter gave him a small nudge, and he groaned again. “Are you awake?”

“Giv’m’ a minu’e…” Kraglin blinked slowly, face tight as he tried to push himself up. He let out a sharp hiss and dropped to the floor again.

“I think your arm’s broken,” Peter said, “And you hit your head.”

“M’ head?” Kraglin’s voice was slurred and Peter winced. “Wha’…”

“Do you remember the space storm?”

Kraglin frowned, his good arm coming up gradually before he tentatively felt around his head, running his fingers along the plasters. Peter watched him worriedly.

“I…Think?” His voice was unsure and slow.

“Your seatbelt broke,” Peter tried to explain carefully, “And you were tossed around.”

“Oh…”

“The Elector’s out there, but I don’t know if it can see us.” Peter glanced out the window, watching as the ship carried on its steady path. 

“The Elect’r’s here?”

“N-No, Kraglin, it’s out here.” He pointed for emphasis, and then realised Kraglin could not see, “We can see it but it can’t see us.”

“Ahh, I see…”

“Do you?” Peter asked sceptically, and Kraglin did not answer. “Is there anything we can use to get their attention, like a flare or something?”

“There’s a flare?”

“No!” Ok, so apparently Kraglin was too out of it to understand what was going on. That left Peter. This really was not his day. He better get a medal for all of this.

Peter stared around the ship again, there had to be something. He stood and climbed his way to the other side of the ship, where there were some small lockers. The key had been left in the lock, and Peter quickly turned it and yanked open the door.

Oh yeah, they were at an angle, weren’t they?

Everything came falling out, some hitting Peter, some tumbling passed and hitting Kraglin.

“Ow…” The concussed man muttered.

“Sorry.”

Peter climbed back down and searched through the items.

An empty packet of food. Not helpful and made Peter remember he had not eaten in forever. Ugh, make that two medals.

A packet of weird smelling tobacco. Useless.

An old Ravager badge. Also useless. 

Some units! Peter was quick to pocket those. 

The rest was just junk, and Peter shoved them to one side with an angered huff. Something hard hit his wrist bone as he did, and Peter picked it up. Then he whooped. 

“Kraglin! I’ve found a torch!”

“Tha’ nice Pete…” Kraglin said sleepily. 

Peter clambered back up to his seat and sat down, using the arms of the chair to hold him in position as he clicked on the light and then waved it like mad out the window. The beam was bright, and Peter hoped it went far enough that it could be seen. He almost felt like he was shining the BatSignal. Did that make Yondu Batman?

When his arm began to ache he swapped hands. 

The Elector continued on silently.

Peter swapped hands again, desperately waving the torch.

The Elector slowed to a stop, and then turned their way.

Peter could have cried.

“Kraglin! Kraglin they’ve seen us!” Peter received no response. “Kraglin?” Peering over the side of the chair, Peter realised Kraglin was once again unconscious. He paused, but eventually decided to stay in his seat. He needed to be by the window. 

The Elector came near the ship and then stopped, and two M-ships appeared out the hanger, flying up from under the ship and close to Peter. He could see Yondu in the window of one, standing up and giving directions to the pilot. Yondu hit what Peter suspected to be the comm, and said something before looking at him expectantly. 

Peter pointed to their own comm, and then his ear as he shook his head. Yondu frowned, and said something to the pilot. Yondu then made a ‘follow us’ gesture.

Peter slapped at the buttons and yanked the steering controls before shaking his head. 

“No…Power.” He said slowly, making big mouth movements. Yondu began talking to the pilot again, and then mouthed something. Peter frowned. “What?”

‘Kraglin’, they were asking for Kraglin. Peter shook his head, pointed behind him and made a sleeping gesture. Yondu looked bewildered. Peter pointed behind him again, and then banged his hand against his head, and then made the sleeping motion again. Realisation dawned on Yondu and he nodded. 

Yondu pointed at himself and the other ship, then made a pushing gesture, and then pointed at the Elector. Peter nodded. Yondu pointed at the pilot’s seatbelt, and then at Peter, who rolled his eyes and did as he was told. At least he was finally going to be free of this ship; he would be able to eat soon.

Finally, after a bit of careful manoeuvring and only one crash into the Elector’s side, they were docked into the hanger, and the crew were manually trying to pry the door open. When they finally did, with was with a loud shrieking of metal and an ear rattling clang.

“What the hell happened to you two?” Yondu was instantly in the door, letting the medic passed to look as Kraglin. Peter grabbed his backpack and Walkman and eagerly stepped out.

“The Elector!” He cried dramatically, falling to his knees and hugging the metal floor. “I shall never complain about you again!”

“Funny, boy.” Yondu pulled him up by the collar, “Wha’ happened?” Peter squirmed until Yondu let go.

“First we ran out of power coming back. Not all of it, the lights were still on at first, and then Kraglin broke them trying to move the power to the comms.” 

Both Yondu and Peter moved out the way as the medic helped a now conscious Kraglin stumble out the ship, the concussed man leaning heavily on the medic and blinking confused. Yondu kept his focus on Peter, though he was watching Kraglin and the medic out the corner of his eye. 

“An’ then?”

“Then there was a space storm, and for most of it Kraglin’s seatbelt was broken and he was thrown around. Then he was out for ages. Then he woke up, and I saw you, and then he was asleep again when you spotted us.”

Yondu ran a hand over his face, sighing tiredly. For a moment he almost looked old.

“Ok, you go get some grub in the mess, then get some kip.” Yondu ordered.

“What about Kraglin?”

“I’ll go with him; he’ll probably be out again as soon as he hit the bed anyway.”

“Ok.” Although Peter was worried about Kraglin, he was also famished and not in the mood to argue all that much.

As Peter left the hanger, he paused and glanced over the rail at the ship. It was dented, scraped, and missing paint in areas. Mechanics and electricians were already pulling it apart, trying to locate whatever the problem was which had caused this whole hassle to begin with. The ship was probably going to be destined for scrap. Peter waved it goodbye, and the hurried off for a well-deserved meal.

……

Kraglin got stitches, and had his arm in a cast and sling. He was told to stay in bed for a few days, but the next afternoon when Peter walked onto the bridge, he was sat in his seat, going over the data pads. 

“Shouldn’t you be resting?” Peter asked, hanging over his good shoulder and watching him work.

“Nah, I’ve had worse. It’s only a broken arm.”

“And a concussion.” Peter corrected.

“Well, not anymore.” Kraglin glanced at him, “Are you ok? I don’t really remember all that much.”

“You mean from the space storm?”

“Mmm.”

“No, I was fine.”

“Good.”

There was a moment of silence as Kraglin began carrying out his daily scans of the ship.

“Kraglin?”

“Yeah?”

“Don’t leave me alone in space again.” Kraglin stopped and looked at him. They were alone, therefore earning Peter one of Kraglins rare warm, reassuring smiles. Kraglin reached up and ruffled his hair.

“I won’t, Pete.”

“Promise?”

“To the best of my ability, I promise.”

Peter hugged him around the neck, and then left him in peace, off to cause mischief elsewhere.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tada~ Happy ending for everybody (apart from the ship. RIP ship). I hoped you liked this!
> 
> As a heads up, I know I have a few people following me for the GOTG stories. After next week I’m going to be without internet signal for three weeks, meaning that I won’t be able to upload. It will also mean I won’t be able to respond to comments. I’ll still be writing though, so when I can I’ll publish!

**Author's Note:**

> The other day I wondered what would happen to you if you were stuck out in space in a broken ship. This was the result, poor Peter and Kraglin! Part 2 coming soon! (Or should that be Volume 2?)


End file.
